


Wind in the Sails

by Rabentochter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 18th Century, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Tony Stark, Battle, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Pining, Pining Tony Stark, Pirates, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Self-Sacrifice, Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Warning: Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: Tony Stark doesn't want many things from life. What he wants is to end the terror reign of pirate Thor Odinson and his crew, use the reward to start a new life with his bladesmith. But Serrure isn't happy when he hears who Tony is hunting down – and Tony gets the feeling that something will go wrong the moment he gets onboard.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 90





	Wind in the Sails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NamelesslyNightlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/gifts).



> This... might have been inspired from when you sent me [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXjhvfIe6vQ).
> 
> Merry Christmas, Lou ❤️❤

Tony knew that getting aboard was a mistake the moment he left the port. Because he was aware that he wouldn’t return for a while, if _ever_ because this mission wasn’t as _easy_ as the other ones had been but being part of the marine— his job was to catch and bring pirates in.

And if that meant going after the Ásgarthr and its ruthless captain, Thor Odinson and his no less vicious crew, then he would do that. Even if Serrure had pleaded with him _not_ to go, pulled his most convincing arguments why Tony shouldn’t go, not shy to use his lips for something more than pretty words. Tony thought he could still feel his lips tingling from their last kiss, his back still burning from where Serrure had glared holes into him with his eyes.

But the Avengers wouldn’t have left without him, no matter how late Tony would have arrived, as he was the first mate and gunner. Rogers never would want to admit it, but they’d be lost without him.

_And it doesn’t matter to you that I’m lost without you and die at the sea?_

He still remembered how Serrure subtly wiped his eyes, which shone brighter than an emerald when he was crying. The trembling anger in his stupid English voice as Tony told him he wasn’t coming back to Port Royal for a longer time. Not, until he and his men had sunk the Ásgarthr and made the sea a bit safer. Then, Serrure had grown angrier, his voice was no longer trembling, it was downright shaking with anger.

“ _And you want me to sit here for months without a word from you, as you go after the deadliest of pirates?”_

_“Well, yes?”_

_“Don’t you think that perhaps, I prefer you being alive_ over _the sea being safer?”_

_“It’s my job, Serrure. And if I must die for the sea being safer, then I will do that!”_

Tony still tasted those words on his tongue, the regret was weighing him down with every step as he walked towards the captain’s quarters. Serrure had been silent, after that, and perhaps that was why it hurt so much more – not even an, “good luck” or, “come back alive”.

Because why wish for someone to come back who’d declared they wouldn’t mind dying on the sea?

He— usually Tony made a point of not leaving a port angrily. It clouded his judgement, and it was how his parents had left him; they’d argued and then they’d been on their way to England and the ship had sunken on the way. It was superstitious on his part, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it.

He stopped and threw a last look at Port Royal. Somewhere there on the outer skirmish, was Serrure. His favourite travelling Bladesmith. Goodness, sometimes Tony forgot how much strength Serrure was hiding in his lean body, until it came to the moment where Serrure pressed him against a wall, or manhandled him into bed, still smelling of fire and embers. His heart clenched in his chest as longing made itself a home inside of him.

 _Never go to sea when you’re angry_.

“Tony, you’re back early!” Rhodey greeted him with a slap on his back. “I thought you’d look at knives for a while longer. But that's good because Rogers wanted to leave earlier anyway—"

Tony sent his friend a glare.

“Oh, trouble in the smithy?”

“If you don’t shut your mouth,” Tony said quietly, anger boiling beneath his skin, “I’ll stuff it with my fist.”

Rhodey stepped back at once, and Tony tried not to feel guilty over it. He just, wanted to leave the port and get out before he’d leave the ship and return to Serrure. Most likely, he’d be on his way down to the smithy, working out his frustration by forging the finest blades Tony ever had the fortune of seeing.

He rubbed a hand over his face, peeked at his friend through his fingers. “We had a dispute.”

“I’m sorry.” Rhodey cut a grimace. “But he’ll still be here when we come back, I’m sure.”

 _Would he though?_ Serrure often spoke of how he missed travelling, longed for settling down somewhere else again, traveling the seas. A part of Tony wanted to catch the Ásgarthr so Serrure and him would be free to go somewhere else. Already, Port Royal was growing distrustful of their close… _friendship_ but nobody except for Rhodey knew the truth. And Tony did it like Romanoff – keep doing as if everything was perfectly normal and nobody was going to question. Not, that Tony was stupid enough to call Romanoff out on her bluff; he was sure that most of the crew suspected that she wasn’t a man but, yeah.

If they caught the Ásgarthr, the sea would be securer, and Tony would have more money — enough that he could leave and start a new life elsewhere. He wasn’t unskilled in the forge and smiths were high in demand everywhere. Serrure had made sure that Tony knew how to work on an anvil, how to make horseshoes and other weapons. Also, Tony had made himself a name and the governor of Port Royal could write him a letter of recommendation in case Tony wanted to stay with the military.

He needed to put an end to Odinson’s terror reign over the sea, return to Serrure as a made man, and then they could leave. For all the good beverages Port Royal had to offer, it wasn’t a town where Tony wished to spend his life’s evenings forever.

There was a short meeting with Captain Rogers and the rest of the crew, a briefing about their mission, everyone put together what they knew about Odinson and his ship.

The most concerning issue was that they couldn’t be sure of _where_ the pirates were waiting for their newest victim or which island would fall prey to their cannon balls. They decided to set sail to the Cayman Islands, George Town to be precise. They were a few day’s travel away, but between the mainland and Cuba where they could fill their stocks and take a short rest. In addition, there were smaller islands around, rumoured to be infected by pirates.

Tony let himself be swamped away by duties and tasks. Everything was better than to admit to himself that he missed Serrure and wished he’d stayed a few minutes longer, cleared everything up. But _no,_ impulsivity and spontaneity were his curses, so he’d left too early. The sheets had still been crumbled, Serrure’s high cheeks still flushed from their lovemaking.

They arrived in George Town without any trouble, much to Tony’s grief. He’d given his arm to be allowed to shoot at something and empty bottles didn’t count. Also, Captain Rogers didn’t like seeing his first mate lose control over his _feelings_ and rally up the crew with his “excessive energy”.

But they got the bad news as soon as they entered an inn, planning on staying there overnight.

“Haven’t you heard? The Odinsons are back together on the sea.”

Tony grinned as he turned around to the marine at the table nearest to them. “You can’t be right. We were all sure that Loki has been killed in the battle, years ago.”

“Well, the lad is back alive and hasn’t lost his bite.” The soldier toasted him. “There’s been a few attacks already and survivors are sure they’ve heard his name being called out.”

“Huh.” Tony felt a headache coming on. Hunting Thor Odinson and his men alone was a Herculean task by itself but now, Loki Odinson as well? The man they’d all believed to be dead _for years_ when an attack against St Lucia had gone badly – for the pirates, that was.

“Thank you for the warning,” Tony eventually said as the silence continued. “We’re hunting the Ásgarthr currently.”

He felt the pity coming from the other in waves.

Rogers wasn’t happy to hear about the latest development. Frankly, neither was Tony but what was he to do? He couldn’t tell Loki to stay dead, if he wanted his wish to come true then he needed to take care of that by himself. There was a… minor chance that they could take down Thor or Loki, but not both at once. The brothers were the most feared combination abroad, and not only one captain believed it would be better to bring them in and have them work for the crown instead of separating each other. Because revenge wouldn’t be _fun_ , and if there was a chance to reduce the loss of people, then they rather took it.

When they’d believed Loki to be dead, Thor had ensured that everyone knew of his grief and anger.

They returned to the sea the next day, when the sun wasn’t up yet, only a hint of colour in the sky. They set sail for the islands nearby, but the Ásgarthr wasn’t to be seen and with the Odinsons being a full set again, neither of the crew felt homicidal enough to set foot on land there. They needed more firepower for that.

But they had to go on, steering southwest, heading to the mainland. Tony’s heart was aching with every new morning more for Serrure. There was a knife strapped to his belt that he’d nicked from Serrure a while ago when he hadn’t been looking – but his bladesmith hadn’t complained yet so Tony took that as permission.

The mood aboard sunk rapidly over the course of the next few days. There were _so far_ no mice yet, but Clint was already suspiciously eyeing the food, and Tony was inspecting the artillery every day five times to ensure nothing had changed.

In fact, Tony was strolling through the lighter deck, the moment he heard Clinton scream, _“Pirates!”_

A second later, “ _It’s the Ásgarthr!”_

A few moments later, Tony heard cannons being fired.

Panic was welling up inside of him. He shoved it down, and raced the length of the ship down, heading to the gun deck. People were following him, hurrying to their stations.

_This was it._

And while they’d been taken by surprise, Tony was sure that they _still_ had hope to win against the Odinsons and send them to the ground, where they belonged. He might have said that he didn’t mind dying but for all that was holy, Tony _didn’t want to die_. Not, when he was so close to gaining what he wanted.

Another round hit the ship and it rocked dangerously from the left to the right. Tony lost his footing for a second, holding onto whatever he could reach.

“GET READY!” He swore he could hear already the laughter coming from the other ship. His mind was gifting him with visuals of the Odinsons standing at the railing, swords gleaming in the sunlight as they readied their own men to shoot. His heart was beating up to his ears. The ship was in no position to land a satisfying hit from the broadside in the Ásgarthr. They’d hit maybe the forecastle, _but nothing else._

“ _Rogers—”_

And the Ásgarthr was racing towards them, sails hissed, dark red and black, blowing in the airstream.

“They’re going to ram us,” Tony muttered in disbelief, as he saw the ram in the water. “They’re going to enter us—” He turned around to look at the ship, running the numbers in his head. Waste a broadside, speed up and create distance between them or try something else, running into the risk of getting entered? They were all unharmed so far, they _could fight_. It didn’t matter that almost nobody had survived an encounter with the Ásgarthr yet, they could always be the first ones.

“Ready the cannons,” he gritted out. “And then, _Fire.”_

The men nodded, and Tony raced to the mortars. They usually didn’t use them for hitting ships, the probability to miss was too great but right now? It was all or nothing, and Tony was always one who chose _all_ before he was forced to give up.

The cannons fired. Tony pressed his hands to his ears a second too late, then worked at the mortars. Rogers was trying to get them away from the pirates by setting sail, turning the ship around. It was to their advantage that they were far out at the sea, the water deep, no high cliffs or rocks that threatened to slit the ship’s belly up.

“C’mon, you fucking asshole—” Tony fumbled around at the bomb. This was the day Rogers would thank him on his knees for mounting the vessel in the Avengers because this baby would save their very own sorry asses.

And when Tony fired the chasing cannons, hit the Ásgarthr and they were speeding up, trying to take them from behind, hit them _where it hurts_ —

He thought that Fortuna was on their side. Water was splashing against the sides, the crew was doing their job. There was in the distance, roaring laughter that carried across the waves — Tony shoved the shiver it caused him, down and made sure the cannons were ready for the next round. Everything seemingly went according to their plan, Clint took over his place. His aim was far more accurate, and he was firing already the next shot.

A mizzenmast from the others splintered and cracked in the middle. The view would inspire Tony in the years to come to write ballads and sing about his love for justice triumphing over evil.

“Get ready—” he yelled as they neared the ship from behind, the circle they were driving big and they were lying into the side—

Shots were fired.

Tony dove down.

Something was falling; he rolled aside, everything inside of him was screaming to get away. Then, something crashed down where he’d been a moment ago. Almost uncomprehendingly, Tony stared at the now broken crow’s nest.

Another round of shots was fired. He dove down again, arms over his head as wood splinters were falling around him. Rogers was cursing at the steering wheel, the profanities that left his mouth were fouler than anything else Tony had ever heard of him before.

And the Ásgarthr was already not in front of them anymore, instead at their side. When Tony got up, his gun and sword drawn, he could see the gold in the pirates’ mouth and Thor Odinson was laughing loudly.

 _“Shoot, you idiots—”_ Tony yelled, fear gnawing at his limbs. He aimed at the Odinson, fired—

Missed.

Cannons were fired.

And Tony saw the others fire too and they _had_ already taken damage—

The return to Serrure was slipping through his fingers, and Tony just found the time to regret having gone aboard, when the impact of the cannons made him tumble backwards, was falling and then—

“ _Tony?”_

Something was shaking him.

Tony blinked awake. Everything was hurting. His face was pressed against the main deck. He sat up gingerly, trying not to jostle any of his possible wounds, and it turned out to be more difficult with his hands bound together behind his back.

“Oh, thank god you’re finally awake.” Rhodey looked at him with relief. “We were getting afraid you’re dead.”

“Could’ve checked my pulse.”

“Well, we meant brain dead but sure.” Clint snorted from his other side. They were all sitting there at the deck, rounded up like pigs, ready for slaughter. Tony didn’t enjoy that thought. Rhodey, Clint, Romanoff, and a few others were there. About ten people were missing, among those, _Rogers_ —

“Rogers’s negotiating with Odinson,” Rhodey informed him in a low voice. “They’ve been in the cabin for half an hour now.”

“Which one?” Tony asked.

“Thor.”

“No sign of Loki so far,” Clint told him. “Not, that it makes any difference because we’re still here but at least, maybe he’s not alive and still dead at the bottom of the sea.”

A pirate who was guarding them, turned around to them and started chuckling as if Clint had made an extremely funny joke. “Loki? _Dead?”_

“Yeah.” Tony groaned as his head protested loudly against him moving. “After all, he’s been gone for two, three years now.”

“The bastard’s not dead though.” The pirate kept laughing. “Never been. No wonder you had no luck in getting anything done, if you honestly believe _rumours_ that Loki’s dead.”

Tony chose to stay silent on that. It angered him though, that they’d fallen for a trick apparently. He’d never assume again that someone was dead until he’d seen their lifeless body – or the leftover bits of them.

A woman walked out of the cabin. Romanoff drew in a startled breath as she came to a stop in front of them. “Which of you is the first mate?”

“Me,” Tony said, squinting up against the dark-haired beauty. “Who’s asking?”

“Thor.” She pointed at him to follow. “You’re being asked for in the negotiations. Not that I get _why_ but when the Captain insists—”

Tony got to his feet as quick as he could, much to his head’s grief as he stumbled from one side to the other.

“All right.” The pirate stopped him. “Can you walk?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony gritted out and took a step forward.

“Good.”

She held the door open to him and Tony stumbled through it.

“Tony!”

“Rogers.”

Tony nodded and sat down in an unoccupied chair without asking. He got the feeling that it would make a better impression than him falling over. “I heard you wanted to see me?”

Rogers face, previously relieved, turned grim. Ashen, almost.

“Not him, me.” That was how Thor Odinson, Captain of the Ásgarthr, introduced himself into their riveting conversation. He didn’t look as if he’d just entered their ship and fought them, _no._ There was not a scratch on his face, no grime, no trail of blood anywhere on his face. Tony had never wanted to punch a face as badly as this one tempted him.

“You are Anthony Stark, first mate and Gunner of the Avengers?”

“Yes.” Tony raised a brow. “And I suppose you’re Thor, the one whose head should be pinned to the walls of Port Royal.”

Thor sent him a wolfish grin. “It would be an honour of mine should you ever defeat me, Stark.”

“Oh, don’t worry, one day I will.”

Thor’s look turned calculative. Tony didn’t appreciate the cold gleam in those baby-blue eyes. “I don’t think so. Care to wager on it?”

“For that, you have to kill me,” Tony replied easily. “Only then you can be sure I won’t hunt you down.”

“Oh, nothing rather than _that_.” Thor leant forward, his elbows at the table and for a split second, Tony could hear Serrure scolding him for doing the exact same thing to him. Funnily enough, Thor took them down a milli-fraction later. “Alas, I promised not to throw you to the sharks.”

“You— promised.”

Thor winked at him. “Let’s say we have a common acquaintance, Stark. Which is also why we’re here.”

 _A common acquaintance?_ Tony’s mind jumped to all the easy ladies he’s ever had in his bed, some of them were known for sleeping with the one or other pirate too if they… were around. But he couldn’t think of one he’d so deeply impressed that she’d asked for his life – and he hadn’t lain hand on any of them in a while.

There’d been Serrure and he was more than enough, in every way, shape, and form.

“Tony,” Rogers said stiffly. “Odinson has agreed to let us all go if you go with him.”

“The acquaintance?” Tony said numbly. That was all that would make sense in this puzzling chaos.

“Indeed.”

Rogers looked at him. “I don’t know who that acquaintance is you’re speaking of but, Tony— if we all can _go_ unarmed, with enough ratio that we can make it back home—”

“Where are we?” Tony cut in.

“Bajo Nuevo Bank is half a day’s travel away,” Thor answered calmly. “The bank is known to smugglers and your kind.”

“I have your word that they get to Nuevo Bank unharmed?” Tony searched for contact with Thor’s eyes. Held it. “That you won’t shoot them the moment I leave this ship?”

“You have my word.”

Tony felt himself being torn apart. There was the fate of his crew in his hands, and he knew what his decision should be. It came with the responsibility that brought this task with him. Nonetheless, he had a clear picture of what was going to await him on the Ásgarthr. Thor had said he won’t kill him, but that didn’t mean he was except from anything else and Tony didn’t feel like being a prisoner aboard a pirate ship, to be set out somewhere else, to die from natural causes.

From all ways he’d imagined he’d die one way, being traded for the crew didn’t cross his mind once.

What he regretted was that he wouldn’t be able to see Serrure again. To tell him he was sorry and that he was back, that they could go somewhere else, start over. Rhodey could tell him though, that Tony had tried. That—

Yeah.

Tony looked down at the table, saw his plans swimming away.

“All right.” He looked back up. “Let’s go.”

“Nothing rather than that.” Thor cast a glance around the cabin. “I miss my own four walls.”

Getting up felt like shoving his knife into his own heart. Tony was glad that Odinson had his hand at his back, and kept pushing him forward. Probably because he was afraid Tony would change his mind but Tony _wasn’t going to_ – he only used it so he could stay upright and kept walking.

He heard Rogers walking behind them and the pirate lady followed them, her sword drawn.

“Tony—”

“See ya around, Rhodey,” Tony replied and forced cheerfulness into his voice. “I was invited to get drunk with our pirate friends for a while.” It didn’t sound cheerful at all.

“I wouldn’t say drunk,” Thor muttered.

Tony got the feeling that Thor had a personal grudge against him, even more so than against the rest of the crew.

“Can you tell—?” Tony didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Rhodey nodded, already about to reply when Thor gave him a shove and Tony hurried up.

Leaving the Asgard hurt on a different level, and Tony wished, he could have left her on his own violation.

“Where you want me?” He asked Thor, confident that the answer would be the jail of the ship.

“Cabin,” Thor replied and pointed at the large door to his left.

 _Was Thor going to massacre him in his bedroom?_ Tony didn’t know what else to think. But he walked towards the Captain’s cabin without falling over, and none of the pirates was trying to gut him – a wonder if you asked Tony. He was sure that at least one of them was harbouring a personal grudge against him, like Thor did, for handling the hanging of one of their friends.

Tony stepped inside the cabin and was directed to sit down at the table. A pirate was stationed inside of the rooms before Thor left, not without threatening him beforehand _not to break_ anything. Honestly, Tony didn’t regret cutting back on, “I’m not a pirate like you,” even if it had earned him a slap across the face.

That only proved his theory – only because some mutual acquaintance didn’t wish him dead, did that not mean he was safe from being hurt.

The Ásgarthr set sails a short moment later. Tony tried not to think about what he was leaving behind as he was sailed towards _somewhere_ , a guest from the very pirate he wanted to see hanged.

_At least the crew was safe._

No cannons were fired. Tony sat on his chair for about half an hour, as he kept looking at the ugly golden clock that stood opposite of him. There were apples piled up on a plate too and as hungry as Tony was, he wasn’t sure yet if he could bite into those before his guard would hit him with his gun.

Eventually, someone opened the door to the cabin and the guard left silently. Tony didn’t turn around, although he felt eyes on his back, and goosebumps were sneaking onto his arms and legs.

“Hello, Anthony,” the person behind him said.

Tony froze on the chair. He knew that voice. The soft timbre, the stupid accent—

“Serrure?” He asked thickly.

The man, Serrure, because who else could it be, laughed softly before he rounded the table and sat down on the other side.

Tony blinked. Licked over his lips nervously as he took in Serrure’s appearance. The tall, slender body and the angular face with chiselled features, the green eyes that held Tony easily in a ban, as they’d done since the first moment they’d met. His Bladesmith was wearing a long black coat, a dark green vest and leather belts were wrapped around his upper body.

And where Tony first had the thought that Serrure somehow was a captive of the Odinsons as well, the sight of the knives strapped to the belt and the two guns quickly robbed him of that illusion. No. For whatever reason Serrure was here, he certainly wasn’t held against his will here.

Serrure smiled shortly at him. “I suppose you can call my by name Loki as well now.”

 _Loki_.

Tony stared at the man who he was in love with, who he thought he knew by heart but seemingly, didn’t. _How could he have missed that Serrure was_ the _Loki?_

Admittedly, there were almost no accounts of what Loki looked like as he always wore a stupid hood over his head when he was in an attack, nothing was consistent except for the green and black which he always favoured. Serrure, the blacksmith, had worn a lot of black and had scars littered all over his bodies that Tony knew were from fights—

Although he’d always assumed these were from fights with pirates, not from fights against– Tony’s side.

Serrure had come to Jamaica when Port Royal had long known of the death of Loki Odinson, and he’d established himself there soon as the local bladesmith. Nobody had questioned him as he came with a ship full of people who hoped to find work at their island, and start over.

“You lied to me,” Tony said flatly.

“Serrure is my second name,” Serrure – Loki – replied brightly. “You never bothered to ask me for my first one.”

“Because I thought _that was your first name!”_ Tony wanted to slam his hands on the table.

Loki smiled at him gently. He looked so much alike the Serrure in Tony’s head that he wanted to scream in frustration. Agony. Betrayal was shooting through his heart. Who knew if what they had had, had even been real? If Loki hadn’t exploited him and his knowledge, to ensure Thor would be safe on the sea, plunder, and steal whatever he liked?

“I suppose that you are the mutual acquaintance Thor spoke of earlier?”

“Oh, did he say that?” Loki’s eyes were gleaming. “I wagered to him that he wouldn’t manage it to get you onboard without mentioning me in any way at all. He told me he hadn’t.”

“On a second thought, he didn’t say anything.” Tony leaned back in the chair. Closed his eyes for a second as he tried to get his raging emotions under control.

“Don’t be like that,” Loki chided him. “I hate losing against my brother.”

“Not my fault.”

They were silent for a moment. Tony opened his eyes again and stared at Loki, the pirate and compared him to his Serrure. Stupidly, they both had the same smirk on their face and looked at Tony as if he was something to be treasured. But where that thought had made his stomach dance in excitement before, now it only was filled with dread.

“So, what’s going to happen to me here?” He eventually asked when he couldn’t bear the silence a second longer.

“Nothing,” Loki replied calmly. “You get a choice, Anthony.”

“Between getting shot here or being fed to the sharks?”

Something akin to hurt flashed up in green eyes. “No,” Loki gritted out. “What you want to do, now that you know who I am.”

“What? One of the most wanted pirates who lied to me for over a year?”

“You think it was any easier to be with you when I knew that you would do nothing rather than see me or my brother hanged?” Loki replied harshly. “It wasn’t me who kept insisting that we should _deepen_ our acquaintance and be more than client and customer, Anthony. I lived there in the cave of lions, saw some of my men hanged because of you and still kept letting you back into my bed.”

“You and your brother are the cause of death for my people,” Tony replied flatly. “I don’t think you can hold me wanting revenge and peace over my head.”

“No, I suppose I can’t.” Loki sagged back into his chair. “Do you know why I never left Port Royal before today?”

“Because you were spying on me.”

“I broke my leg when I fell overboard the day I almost drowned.” Loki tilted his head. “And while I could have stayed onboard and continue to be Thor’s right hand, I didn’t want to sit around and be dependent on crutches for months while I was out at the sea. I healed, and took a ship to Jamaica.”

“Wow, good for you. I fail to see where this leads though.”

“I _never_ had planned on staying in Port Royal for so long,” Loki gritted out. “That’s why I said I was a travelling Bladesmith, you fool. So that when I left and joined Thor again, nobody would wonder or I had to explain much.”

“That tells me you’re a strategic thinker,” Tony replied coldly. He didn’t _want_ to sit here and listen to Loki, telling him—

“You happened,” Loki said, and it sounded like a confession. “You were not supposed to become someone important to me, Anthony, but you did. And whenever I tried to remind myself that I needed to hate you, that you were trying to _kill me_ , you made me forget about it by making me laugh. There were days I thought I’d go mad without you at my side.”

“Oh no, my bad for thinking I could try to make someone I _adored_ , happy.” Tony swallowed dryly.

“You made me happier than being at Thor’s side and out there at the sea ever did,” Loki added and stole the wind from Tony’s sails.

“You fucking asshole,” Tony whispered. “You can’t just say those things and— You’re literally a _pirate_ , and my enemy, I can’t—”

“What if I was no pirate and you no marine?” Loki asked him calmly, his voice an echo of Tony’s own ideas. “When we’re someone else entirely?”

“What—” Tony swallowed, cleared his voice. “What do you mean, Loki?”

Loki sighed. “It’s one of your choices that I’m offering you. We can leave the Ásgarthr and start over new, wherever we want. I have enough funds for us both to go wherever we want. We can get to know each other again – without any pretences or lies, just as plain and complex as we come.”

Tony’s heart stopped beating for a beat.

Loki smiled at him, but it grew painful. “Or you can say you never wish to see me again and we’ll drop you off at the next island and can go on with your life however you wish.”

“And if I wanted to hunt you or your brother down?”

“Thor will kill you,” Loki stated. “This time, he didn’t because I was lucky that someone in Port Royal knew where he was staying and offered me a transfer. But next time?” Loki bit on his lips. “I’d rather not hear news about you and the Asgard being sent to the bottom of the sea.”

“You won’t— be on board?”

“No.” Loki looked aside. “With or without you, I’m going somewhere else and starting over as a bladesmith. Although I’d prefer to have you at my side, I can understand if you don’t share the same wish.”

“I—” Tony shook his head, tried to clean it. “I need a moment to think.”

“Of course.” Loki made movements to get up.

“Did I say anything about you leaving?” Tony stared at Loki aghast. He wasn’t sure why he’d said what he’d said either but — he knew that he didn’t want Loki to leave. Loki, Serrure, they both were different men but they felt _the same_. They might have different paths but they both wanted for Tony to share their future with him.

Loki sat down in his chair, befuddled. “Anthony?” he asked carefully.

“When— Did you mean anything you said?”

“Here?”

“No, at home.” Tony swallowed. “Or were you only trying to lull me in?”

“I meant every word,” Loki replied carefully. “I meant every word then, and every word from today. I will mean every word in the future as well, if you shall allow me to stay at your side and prove to you that I’m more than the monster you’ve painted in your mind.”

Tony nodded. Shook his head. He was confused, his heart in an emotional turmoil and nothing was _calm_ for a bloody second, as he wasn’t even allowed to process what was going on before the next bomb was already hitting.

“I’m confused by you, from you—” he eventually managed to get out. “There’s Serrure, who’s been– for a year and now it’s you and you are– and you _still_ want me to leave with you and go somewhere else?”

“Yes.” This time Loki _did_ get up, to walk around the table and freed Tony’s wrists from the expertly tied ropes. “Anthony, I don’t think I’ve desired anything so much so far as I want to leave everything behind with you. The thought that I almost lost you because you didn’t give me any time to warn Thor to leave his hands off you because you were already storming off and setting sails when I was running after you.”

“You were— _running_ after me?”

“Yes.” Loki snorted. His hands were still holding Tony’s wrists as he got up. Tony was sure Loki could feel his rapidly beating pulse. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“So, you went to the place where I surely would end up sooner or later?”

“Yes. If you wouldn’t stay with me in our bed, what else was I to do?”

“Send a messenger bird?” Tony suggested weakly.

“That sounds rather dull to me,” Loki replied. His thumbs were stroking over the fluttering pulse, elevating the rate it was beating at already.

“Can’t have dullness in your life, can’t you?”

“A dull knife never does any good.” Loki sighed, almost frustrated.

He looked so much like his Serrure when he did that; the creased forehead, the way his eyebrows drew together to form a triangle, emphasised the wrinkles in his face, the dimples too.

Tony had just— saved his crew. Had made sure they’d go home sooner or later and wouldn’t be attacked by Thor Odinson for a while and he had to thank that, ultimately, Loki. Who didn’t _order_ him to go with him as a reward or forced him to leave Port Royal with him.

No. Instead, Loki, fearsome pirate of the Ásgarthr, gave him the choice whether he wanted to return to his old life and keep hunting pirates until the day he died or go with him and be someone else. Wasn’t that what Tony had wanted anyway? Wasn’t this how the whole shemozzle had started in the first place? The wish to leave with the man who owned his heart and find a new home, _together_?

And Loki stood here, before him, no glimmer of hope in his eyes as he waited for Tony’s decision like a beaten man who was ready to become a loner.

Tony didn’t want that. When he gave himself a minute to think, then he couldn’t– _didn’t_ want to imagine him anywhere else than at Loki’s side. He wanted to be at his side for as long as the winds would carry their boat.

“Loki,” he said gently. It was the first time he hadn’t said the name with disgust, he noticed, and he said it again, let the fondness he held for the man, shine through. “ _Loki.”_

Green eyes searched his quietly.

Tony wrung his hands free from Loki’s grasp, reaching up to Loki’s face and held it tenderly before he rocked forward on his toes, to press a kiss against his man’s lips. His eyes fluttered shut, enjoyed the brief brush, remembering that there’d been a time where he thought he could never do this again.

It didn’t matter that they were on a ship that belonged to Tony’s worst enemy and that he stood here in a blue jacket that marked him as Loki’s greatest nemesis.

What mattered was that kissing Loki felt like kissing Serrure and that, in return, felt like seeing home appear on the horizon from the ship out. When he leaned back, his eyes still closed, his fingers brushing over Loki’s cheeks, Loki sighed in contentment.

And it was what solidified Tony’s decision. This noise of pure contentment.

“Let’s start over,” he agreed in a quiet whisper.


End file.
